A Girl on Fire
by Miinoh
Summary: Katniss' thoughts of Peeta are increasing, and leading her in a direction she hadn't anticipated...
1. A is for Arousal

The train ride home from the games was excruciating. Sure, the food was as exceptional as ever, but something felt… empty. The sort of emptiness one might feel on a hollow day, but much more pronounced. Exaggerated, even. Something was gnawing at my insides, but below that, a warm buzzing stirred. A feeling I'd never experienced before, and wasn't altogether accepting of.

I started pacing, counting symptoms to tell my mother about later, because I could only assume this was some arena-induced illness. Dizziness, increased heart rate, Peeta, sleeplessness… Wait, what? Peeta? I froze in the middle of the bit of train hallway I had been wandering. How had that thought, completely unwelcome, worked its way into my diagnosis?

I shuddered. The gnawing had returned, and the odd, tracker jacker-like buzzing came in such force that I got dizzy, and had to lean on the train wall. Not the rocking back and forth was helping much either. Gathering my breath I made my way to my room, collapsing on the bed. _Hot_. I felt hot. Stripping down to my underwear I fanned myself, splayed on the satiny comforter to welcome any hint of a breeze. Still, the warm growling hadn't let go.

Out of nowhere I jumped. The fanning hand had brushed across my chest, and the warmth had flared. Shuddering, trying to breathe steadily, I cautiously brushed my hand over the tip of my breast, which seemed to be the source of these embers. Immediately I had the cover my mouth; the threat of a nearly escaped moan locking me in place. Slowly moving the silencing hand away, I traced a slow, careful circle around my breast. This coaxed out a soft sigh, a sound that felt completely unnatural passing my lips.

Even though my thoughts told me to stop, that someone might see or hear, I couldn't. My body was moving on its own now, exploring areas I had never bothered to pay attention to before this moment. The fire-y trembling was dancing around inside me like hot coals, raising the temperature with every touch, every circle of my aching breasts. Eyes lidded, I barely noticed the hand once again locked over my mouth sliding away, the line it was tracing downwards, nor the single word my lips were forming. "Peeta…"

I couldn't help it. Ever since that first tentative, non-fevered kiss, Peeta's eyes, his smile, and – I felt guilty at this – the sight of him in nothing but boxers, back in the arena. In my mind's eye his scars and wounds, the hollow hunger in his cheeks had all vanished. Before me stood the boy with the bread, the young man who had headed off Cato, and the figure who lingered in my eyes long after my dreams had ended. "Peeta… Peeta…"

"Katniss? Haymitch said I shouldn't bother you, but—oh." It was him.


	2. B is for Beginning

Peeta froze at the same time I did. I couldn't imagine what I looked like, spreadeagle in the middle of my bed, one hand on my breast and the other between my legs. Still, my heat-hazy eyes saw him, and wanted him. Now. "Peeta." I murmured, half begging, half command.

I could see his eyes travel across my nearly-naked body, and that same hypnotic ember entered his already captivating gaze. He took one wary step forward, then another, until he was standing over me. He leaned forward uncertainly, but I pulled him down without a second thought. I kissed him with the same fever as the first time, and felt the sudden crushing of his lips on mine with an intensity that left me trembling in excitement. He broke the kiss only to pull his shirt off over his head, revealing a solid body, tanned by the Games and strengthened by years of flour lifting. Not that any of that actually registered in in my brain; I was ready and waiting – the lack of clothing was just one less obstacle between us. Not that there were many of those, considering he was pressed tight against me and I was only pulling him closer.

Before I knew what was happening, I felt two warm hands on my chest, tugging gently at my nipples. Just this new sensation was enough to make my vision blur. They responded instantly, perking up into the waiting palms that cupped them tenderly. I was trembling weakly when he pulled away for a moment, though the sight of me, flushed and panting seemed to dissolve whatever restraint had remained. Those embers in his eyes danced their way into flames, and just like that Peeta was on top of me again, though not for a kiss. I could feel nothing but the brush of his lips on my neck, my breasts, my stomach, trailing lower and lower… I barely noticed the plea the escaped. "Please, Peeta… Oh, please." Those wonderful eyes flickered in the fire-y light of the dying sunset, as his gentle smile disappeared between my legs.

"To you, Katniss." And I was on fire.


	3. C is for Claiming

Fire. Not a flicker, nor the heat I'd felt when I was alone. This was a bonfire, and Peeta's every touch became tinder. The lips exploring my heat were gentle, feather-light and teasing. A touch I couldn't bear. Thankfully it didn't last much longer, and a groan that vibrated me to my core signaled his readiness as well. I was as ready as I could possibly have been: my thighs were soaked and shaking, and the only sounds I could manage were soft whimpers. Listening to him slurping, feeling every lick and subtle suck on my clit… These were coaxing moans from me that would have a prostitute blushing.

I was ecstatic. Amazed. A little frightened. And very, very turned on. My hands had made their way into his hair, where they tangled, pressing him against my twitching hips. Moving his way up my now-naked body, pants kicked off in the process, I pulled him back into a series of unrestrained kisses. He responded with equal energy, grinding our hips together steadily. With his hands squeezing my butt and pulling me upwards I had nowhere to go but towards him – not that I wanted to do anything else.

I could feel it now: his length, hard and hot against my slit, teasing and probing, but waiting until I was absolutely ready. We parted lips just long enough o make eye contact and nod before—

*Thrust*

I cried out at the suddenness of it, and the pain of virginity lost. Clawing at the sheets, teary-eyed and out of breath, I managed a smile up at Peeta. Peeta, then a boy, and long ago a man in my eyes. But now… more than that. _My_ man. And I was unmistakably his.

We lay like that for a moment, him resting inside me, giving me time to adjust. Blinking the last of the tears away I stared up at him, his face silhouetted against the last rays of sunlight. He was panting a little, but that easy smile came through all the same. Slowly, carefully he began a rhythmic thrusting, rocking his hips against me slowly, allowing us both the feel every rub, twist and squeeze. That soon quickened to the energy and passion of long before.

The feeling of him inside me, claiming me, was suddenly more than I could bear, and I gasped. Clenching tightly – milking him, almost – I came. Long and hard, until I felt him join me, and our moans mingled blissfully. Holding onto each other, our mixed juices overflowing me and dripping onto the sheets… this was it. This was the fullness I had missed – or rather, never truly known. And what felt like it was becoming a whole lot more.


End file.
